


Lucky

by spitefulpanda



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26911264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitefulpanda/pseuds/spitefulpanda
Summary: Felix recalls a memory, he wishes he could forget. Perhaps it would be easier then.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 16





	Lucky

The piercing winter air chilled his fingers into clumsy numbness, the sword in his hand feeling no longer as an extension of his arm, but cumbersome without the help of a proper grip. If a glare could burn, his hand would perhaps warm up enough to not embarrass himself further on the training grounds, even if the temperature trapped inside the stone walls of the monastery kept away the crowd. Leonie’s face read sympathy as Felix fought off the urge to throw his sword on the ground out of frustration. The blacksmith’s judgment would just further fuel his anger if he brought a sword tarnished by his own incompetence, rather than in battle, parrying an enemy’s blade.

His cloak did little against the biting wind as he strode through the fresh snow lacing the stone path leading to his room, a white carpet that would turn into ashen sludge once the sun rose, and with that, the people. In a better mood, he may have found the dimly lit courtyard peaceful. The whispers of a simmering war seemed far away in moments like this, and while he would never admit it, it was one of the reasons why he persisted in his training regime in such foul weather. Today however restlessness filled him, and with that came unwelcome thoughts.

The chill licking his skin reminded him of that night.

They were perched on top of the eastern walls of Fraldarius, bundled up in garments made of the finest wool to keep the frost and pneumonia away. The wind dusted Sylvain’s cheeks pink and made him look younger than how he acted lately. Two years felt like a decade at their age and the fifteen-year-old boy drifted farther away every day no matter how hard Felix tried to hold him near. 

They had sat in companionable silence for a while now and Felix suspected he would be another frozen peak to embellish the castle walls if Sylvain hadn’t taken on the role of a furnace. Like a moth to a flame, over the course of the night, he shifted closer and closer to his friend’s side to in an unsuspecting moment seize the older boy’s arm hostage. Felix snaked his own icy palms under Sylvain’s sleeve, seeking heat, but also comfort. Instead, he was greeted by goosebumps.

He felt rather than heard the tell-tale tremble of a fond chuckle that travelled through Sylvain’s chest, a small ripple that morphed into a tidal wave, washing over Felix who found himself short of breath. It was one of his genuine laughs. Ever since Sylvain’s brother had arrived in Fraldarius, his friend had been in a sour mood and Felix was a fool to forget how intoxicating a cheerful Sylvain could be. He was glad that without the disapproving glare of the unkind brother, Sylvain dared to be himself with him. It was just sad that it took so long for them to find a moment to be alone. When they parted tonight, it would be a goodbye. 

‘Ease up on the grip, buddy,’ Sylvain said, breaking the tranquil silence of the night and as to clarify, his hand moved over Felix’s own for a gentle tap. An embarrassed flush painted Felix’s cheeks and as if burned, he tore his hand away. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and his voice chose that moment to break. He was told that this was normal for a boy his age, but it was nevertheless mortifying. It was just another reminder of the years between them, even if Sylvain promised many moons ago to no longer treat him as a child. Not daring to meet his friend’s eyes, he shoved his guilty hands under his cloak. The heat of the embarrassment should keep him warm just fine.

‘Oh, come on, don’t be like that,’ Sylvain said, a mixture of a whine and a laugh. It was one of his signature tones, feigned upset, something that Sylvain started doing as a joke, but it ended up sticking. On anyone else, this would have been utterly embarrassing and childish. But with Sylvain? It somehow suited him.

Felix intended to not give up what was left of his pride just yet, but as he was pulled into a cloddish embrace, he found his resolve disappearing into the cold air. The once hostage arm curled around Felix’s jutted shoulders, in an angle that must have caused some uncomfort to the older boy. Without much thought, Felix moved closer. He still couldn’t quite meet Sylvain’s eyes, which earned him a ruffle of his hair. With a huff of annoyance, Felix swatted the hand away.

‘It’s just you don’t realize your own strength,’ Sylvain explained apologetically. ‘Come on. I don’t want you pouting for the rest of the night. I’m leaving tomorrow, you know.’

‘I know,’ he said, offended and fought down the urge to hit him again for asking something so stupid. Of course, he knew. How could he not? In a couple of hours, the ink painted sky would change into an orange hue and the Gautier’s carriage would be rattling away on the northern road. Leaving him here. Again.

‘I envy you,’ Sylvain said suddenly and when Felix looked up the older boy wore a forlorn expression. 

‘What.’

‘You heard me.’

‘I was just giving you a chance to take back something so stupid.’

Sylvain shook his head. ‘It’s not stupid. You are so bloody lucky, and you don’t even realize it.’

Felix now fully turned to the older boy, face incredulous. ‘Have you been drinking?’

‘What? No!’ Sylvain snapped back, with a grimace of his own. When Felix tried to sniff him, he jumped off the parapet, no longer sporting a smile. ‘Piss off! I haven’t been drinking!’

Not happy with the sudden change in their dynamic, Felix also hopped onto the battlement. Sylvain still towered over him. 

‘Why are you so bloody defensive then?’

‘Because... Argh!’ Sylvain buried his hand into his hair. It was getting quite long now. ‘Why are we even arguing?’ He asked after a moment, losing all heat. He sounded tired, and now that they were standing, Felix could see how sunken his eyes were. ‘Is it really so impossible for you to believe that what you have here is good?’

Felix felt his mouth open, but before he could regret saying anything, he snapped them close. He didn’t feel lucky. Some people had it worse, he supposed, but then again it didn’t mean he had to like the cards he was dealt. He had no illusions about his position in the family. Glenn had always been the favourite child and Felix would always stay as a second thought. A backup. Maybe Sylvain would see this as freedom. As some good fortune. It just made Felix feel hollow.

‘Maybe for you, my situation seems ideal,’ Felix started, as a way to explain his thoughts, ‘but I don’t talk to you about all the bad things. Not everything is black and white.’

Sylvain scoffed. ‘Oh, come on. What bad things? That you couldn’t beat Glenn in a spar yet?’ He said, voice filled with malice, and Felix felt his throat tighten. ‘That you might have to think about what you want to do with your life, without all that responsibility sitting on your shoulders?’

The burn in his eyes was easy to blink away, but the weight in his chest sank even lower. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want their last moment to be fouled by an argument, nor did he want to adjust the polished image he built of Sylvain in his mind. But maybe it was time for him to stop the avoidance of things he didn’t like. 

‘I see,’ he said in an even voice. ‘I suppose I am lucky then.’ 

His intentions were to end the argument, but the words sat with him. Perhaps luck had nothing to do with happiness. 

He turned to the fields, surrounding the castle grounds, and leaned on one of the merlons. The gap was wide enough for him to fall if he stumbled, but the peaceful slumber of the land, blanketed in a veil of fog, was a risk worth taking. In the sunlight, on a windy day, he could even see white peaks licking away the shoreline. Now, it was all hidden behind a curtain of darkness. The sea was too far for the song of waves to reach where he stood, so he listened to Sylvain shifting from one foot to another instead.

Sylvain was the one to speak first. He knew he would be. Sylvain was predictable, and often said things he didn’t mean. That knowledge did not heal the wounds his words left, but the familiarity brought comfort, - it seemed he still knew his friend, even if sometimes he was not so sure of that himself. 

‘I am such an ass.’

Felix scoffed but said nothing. He could hear Sylvain had moved to his side, but he kept his eyes on the dim horizon.

‘A fool. A loggerhead.’ He gently bumped into Felix. ‘But charming enough to be granted forgiveness?’

‘You know if you pushed me a bit harder, I may have fallen and died.’

‘As if. I would have caught you.’

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘More like fell with me and then we both died.’

Sylvain was silent for a moment. ‘Wasn’t that the plan anyway?’

Their promise. How long had it been since then? Such a foolish thing to make a pact over. There was no guarantee their friendship would even last that long.

‘It was a stupid plan.’

Sylvain suddenly grasped his hand and for a moment Felix really felt himself stumble. It wasn’t vertigo that pulled him in, but the arms of his friend, that wrapped around him in a tight hug. ‘I’m sorry,’ Sylvain mumbled into Felix’s hair, his face pressed against Sylvain’s chest. As he listened to Sylvain’s steady heartbeat, his own was going a mile a minute. ‘I’m so sorry. You know you are everything, right? The one good thing in my blasted life.’

They stood like that for a long time. Two dark figures blended as one in the dark winter night. Sylvain whispering sweet nothings into his dark locks, but all Felix could listen to was the familiar rumble in his friend’s chest. Maybe if he listened hard enough, he could recall this moment after he was left behind.

‘It’s not stupid,’ Sylvain mumbled at last and his hold tightened. ‘It’s not.’

‘It’s not,’ Felix echoed, and for a moment he thought, perhaps he was lucky after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this. I don't know what it is about Fire Emblem that makes me want to put the characters through more angst, but nobody can stop me. This little thing wouldn't have been possible, without the cheerleading and endless motivation from my great friend, B. Thank you for rekindling my love for writing.


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